So it begins. From here,
I’ll write bold and mighty, wringing the
turning cloth of my sacred robe, until
Magick sings my name.

My kingdom’s worth its weight in gold,
here, and on the astral.

I’ll whisper the keys that unlock doors you
could never dream, I’ll run my scythe over
the bits that have become bloated.

You didn’t think I held the fire.
You didn’t think I clocked your restrictive ways.
I see the cage in every word you lay.

Oh, but the sweet birds know me, they know I
keep unclipped wings free.

But don’t you see, I too know the Magick
of my fluid, the science of uniting, the pure
power of a straight arrow laid clean.

I step heavy into god-forms and bend
the burning edges of my circle outward. I
face North as Kephri howls to redeem.

I am not afraid of a long stretch of desert.
I am not afraid of silence. I do not need
your permission, or slick accolades.

My roots are deeply planted now, my
flower readies to bloom. I laugh, “you
couldn’t sway me if you tried.”

Surely, you can sense it, the dew of a new
dawn brimming with fresh meaning.

I do not lie when I say I love you as my own,
that is where we differ. My words mean what
they say, with weight, with the spirit still in them.

I sing with the promise of spring and hold true,
enduring.